


come back, i still need you

by 616bucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, How Do I Tag, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hydra (Marvel), Loss, Male Solo, Poor Bucky Barnes, Sad, i guess, just bucky tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/616bucky/pseuds/616bucky
Summary: Bucky was imprisoned for a long time while Zola was in the SSR. Bucky never once had his hopes falter though. He knew he'll be saved eventually. The Howlies are just taking their time and so does Steve, and that's fine. Steve always finds him, just like how he'd always find Steve. Bucky believed in Steve. He believed in him too much—so much—it hurt.





	come back, i still need you

**Author's Note:**

> for @qquantumlang on twitter, and for everyone who liked that tweet of me posting this.

_Bucky, no!_

 

  A gasp of air. It's always this—the last call of his name as he fell off that train. He'd always wake up to Steve's voice.

  Where is he? It's been... well, he doesn't know. He doesn't know how long he's been in here, imprisoned. He's learned to understand a bit of Russian already since that's the only language he'd hear. Soldiers would sometimes speak to him in broken english though. How many days has it been? Years?

  Bucky groans as he sits up from his cold, hard bed which is on the floor. Not even a pillow nor a blanket is provided. To be fair, this was his world too, in the trenches. The only good thing before maybe was that he had his left arm. He still shouldn't have survived the fall, but he figured the short experiment that was conducted to him way back contributed to this.

  He rubs his eyes and looks up, a Soviet guard looking down to him from behind the bars with a stern face. The man enters his cell with a tray of food, ambling towards Bucky. He then places the tray on Bucky's lap.

  "Eat." He says, monotone. Bucky doesn't blink. Instead, he matches the Soviet's icy stare.

  "I don't fucking want it." Bucky responds.

  The guard doesn't move.

  "I said I don't–" Before Bucky could continue, the Soviet flips the tray on Bucky, spilling everything on him as he grasps him by the jaw, squeezing his face. It's with a hot soup too, and Bucky hisses at the temperature.

  "I'm sick of you, American," The man rushes out with gritted teeth, his hand firm on the lower frame of Bucky's face, the now longer hair of the sergeant entangled between the Russian's fingers. "You.. always, always annoying. Sick of it. Are you not tired?"

 Bucky's jaw is clenched, though his eyes don't lose their intensity and determination. He spits on the Soviet's visage which makes him step back in disgust, Bucky shakily anchoring himself on the bed after being thrown from the grip.

  "Fuck _you,_ " Bucky cusses at the guard, a smug expression on his face. A glint of hopefulness, too. "You know Captain America? He's my _friend._ In no time he'll get me outta here and he'll beat the _shit_ out of you! All of you! You'll fucking see and regret–"

  But then, a laugh interrupts Bucky, a laugh that echoed inside his room. As if Bucky had told the funniest joke—a laugh that is rather insulting and mocking. The Soviet takes his time before he slowly steps in front of Bucky again, this time glowering down at the man with such strong stance.

  "He's never coming back for you," The man says which sends shivers down Bucky's spine. Those words rang in his ears. "He's _dead._ Gone. A long time now. No one is going to get you out of here."

  Bucky couldn't speak. All the taunts before vanished, words are stuck in his throat, refusing to escape. He only manages to shake his head.

  "Oh, да." The Soviet nods in return, "He disappeared. America is mourning for him." He makes a poofing hand gesture and sound, but Bucky's just staring blankly at nothing. No, that can't be. Steve isn't gone. This motherfucker is messing with him, for sure.

  "I don't believe you." Bucky says indignantly. He now looks up to the Soviet, but his gaze falters. Worry wells inside him—he's not even concerned that he won't be rescued anymore. It's the fact that Steve's gone, if it's true. Did he even know he's alive here? What caused his disappearance? Does it mean they didn't find his body? Did Steve die blaming himself for Bucky's fall? God, Bucky hopes he didn't. It wasn't his fault. Nothing was Steve's fault. He's okay here, alive, did Steve know that?

  A newspaper is tossed beneath Bucky's feet in which his eyes follow.

 

_MARCH 5, 1945_

**ROGERS DISAPPEARS**

 

  "You are _ours_ now, Sergeant Barnes," Another man's voice speaks. Someone familiar. Yet, Bucky doesn't look up.

  Bucky stares at it. He stares at Steve's face on the front page. He doesn't even realize the arrival of a few more men with his mind being clouded by so many thoughts, so many regrets, so many concerns. How far has March 5th 1945 been? What is it today? Is the war over, did they win? Everything that's going on in his brain contrasts the emptiness he feels in his chest. Bucky didn't even resist the pulling on his right arm as he's forced to stand up, dragged out of the cell room, and his eyes are still fixated on the newspaper on the ground. Head desperately turning to look at Steve's face _one last time._

  "Steve.." Bucky whispers. Like a prayer.

  "Don't worry, we'll save you…" Bucky turns to the voice, finally. Oh. Arnim Zola. His right arm gets prodded by a needle and whatever that shot was, it made Bucky's eyesight get foggy, but he's fighting it off.

  He groggily looks at what's ahead of him. A surgical table. Machines. Oxygen tanks. He's barely stepping already as he feels his legs go wobbly while two men are supporting both his sides.

  "...And in return, you'll help us save the world." Zola says ultimately before the Soviets situate Bucky on the table. A machine roars. Bucky concludes that it sounds like a chainsaw, but he doesn't see it because his eyelids are already too heavy that they closed involuntarily.

_Steve,_ Bucky thinks again. What else? He's gotta stay awake. Gotta work his brain. _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes_. _Brooklyn, New York._ _3255703856898\. Steve. Steve. Steve._

 

_Steve... no._

 


End file.
